


Ticklish

by jinkieswouldyoulookatthis



Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/M, Smut, Tickling, dont be silly wrap that willy, oh and there's a case which really isn't important, oral sex-female receiving, silly steamy sexy times, unprotected sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-29
Updated: 2016-01-29
Packaged: 2018-05-16 23:01:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,752
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5844328
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jinkieswouldyoulookatthis/pseuds/jinkieswouldyoulookatthis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I wrote this for Salvachester, as part of my 300 followers celebration.</p><p>You were really only slightly ticklish and only in a couple of places.  But seriously, who wasn't?  Cold, insensitive, overly Zen, robot-people, that's who, people who obviously don’t know what they are missing...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ticklish

You and Dean had been skirting the edge of what was appropriate behavior for people who were just friends for a while. You both took every chance you could to touch the other. There were hands on arms, shoulder massages, knees touching when you sat next to each other, legs across laps while lounging around watching TV or reading. It was slowly driving you crazy because other than what you were convinced was a suspicious amount of personal contact, he seemed to treat you like just a friend and co-worker, a close friend and a highly valued co-worker, sure, but there didn’t seem to be anything more to it than that. After a while you managed to convince yourself that that was just how Dean was.

That is, until you and Dean had been forced to make a fast escape out a bathroom window. Not that unusual a situation, unfortunately, except that this window was weirdly high up on the wall. It was a normal size double hung window, that just happened to be set about five feet off the floor, the top of the frame snugged right up against the ceiling like the room wasn't lined up right with the rest of the building. Stretching up, Dean flipped the lock and pushed the bottom sash up as far as it would go. Without pausing, he turned to lift you so you could climb out. His fingertips brushed across your sides. And while you tried to resist the instinctual reaction, you just couldn't help but flinch a bit, your breath hitching in an almost laugh. But then he had a firm grip on your hips and you found yourself being practically tossed through the open window. You scrambled through and found that the ground was less than a foot below the bottom sill, the room was half underground. While you were still adjusting to the feeling that you were Alice climbing out of the rabbit hole, Dean pulled himself up and climbed out of the window with the well-practiced skill of a cat burglar.

"Come on, they're right behind us!" He said quietly as he pressed his hand against your back and pushed you towards the near end of the alley. The two of you broke into a sprint. You ran as fast as you could, while Dean jogged next to you at an almost leisurely seeming pace. A mixture of annoyance and gratitude washed over you. While you were grateful that he never left you behind, you hated that he had to hold back to keep from racing ahead and losing you. And it didn't help that he'd once told you that you ran pretty fast for a pipsqueak. Even still, his legs were miles longer than yours and he could have probably lapped the block in the time it took you to reach the end of the alley.

The Impala came into view down the block as you skidded around the corner. It was parked on your side of the street, facing away from you. You could see Sam sitting behind the wheel and could hear the engine running. You ran flat out until you reached the car and practically threw yourselves into the backseat.

"Go, Sam!" Dean barked as Sam pulled away from the curb. Looking out the back window as you drove off, you saw three men run out of the alley, glance up and down the street before one of them pointed after you and they stopped running. "Did they see us?" Dean asked you.

"They saw the car. So I'm gonna bet that they either recognized it and know you two are involved or they’ll figure it out soon enough. The infamous Winchester brothers' infamous Impala."

"Yeah well, if you ran faster they wouldn't have seen us. Next time I'm gonna just throw you over my shoulder and carry you." And he reached over and poked you in the side, a mischievous gleam in his eyes.

You flinched away and swatted at his hand. "Maybe next time we could try not knocking over a giant tank of water while we're supposed to be being sneaky." You arched an eyebrow at him. "Hmm?" And saw, with satisfaction, his grin fade.

"I thought we agreed not to mention that?" He said under his breath.

You saw Sam look back at you in the rear view mirror, his eyebrows raised. "The lobster tank?" And you could hear the teasing smirk in his voice.

"Who puts a giant tank full of lobsters on a wobbly stand in the middle of a hallway?! Really? Thing was asking to be knocked over." He paused. Sam snorted, trying to hold back a laugh. "Shut up."

Dean was quiet the rest of the way back to the motel as you filled Sam in on what you and Dean had found inside the restaurant. The lead you had uncovered could've meant two different things though and you and Sam had agreed that he would go scope out a suspect while you did a little more research online.

"Great. You two get on that and I'll go pick us up some food." Dean volunteered as the Impala stopped outside the door to your rooms.

"Yeah, okay. Sam, I'll call if I find anything." You said as you got out of the car.

He nodded at you and you went inside. As soon as the door was closed you opened the laptop that was sitting on the table and glanced out the window while you waited for it to wake up. Dean had one hand resting on the roof of the car as he talked to Sam through the open driver's window. You looked down and typed in your password to log on. When you looked back up the Impala was backing out of the parking space and Dean was already out of sight.

You locked the door and turned on the TV. You never could stand being alone in a silent motel room; your imagination always seemed to get carried away, making you jump and start at every tiny little sound. There were only a few channels to choose from and you settled on watching Pink Cadillac. Even though it wasn't one of your favorites, it was mildly entertaining and had Clint Eastwood so you knew Dean wouldn't complain about it when he got back. The volume turned low, but still loud enough to follow along when you focused on it; you settled down at the computer and started chasing down info on your new lead.

A half hour later there was a knock on the door. Gun in hand you peeked out through the curtains. You had drawn them closed a few minutes before as the sun had set. Dean was giving you one of his patented looks, one that wordlessly conveyed “open the fucking door already,” while holding up a couple bags of food. Rolling your eyes, you re-engaged the safety on your gun and unlocked the door.

“How’s the research going?” He asked as he started spreading take-out containers across the coffee table in front of the crappy little sofa.

“It’s not. I hope Sam’s had better luck than I have ‘cause this lead is leading me nowhere.” You sighed in frustration.

“Good.” Dean said and you just barely got your hands out of the way as he reached over and snapped the laptop closed. “Dinner break. Grab a couple of beers, would ya?” He sat down and started digging into the nearest container.

By the time you fished two beers out of the fridge, popped the tops and joined him on the sofa, his mouth was stuffed half full of the biggest, juiciest burger you’d seen in ages. 

“Oh wow! Where did you get these?” You asked as you opened your container to find an equally obscene burger and mound of fries.

“Place around the corner. Best damn burgers in the state!” He managed to say around chewing. “Whole reason I wanted to stay here.”

The two of you ate the rest in silence, watching the end of the movie with your feet propped up on the table and nursing a couple more beers.

“Sorry for ratting you out to Sam earlier.” You joked in an effort to get him talking.

“It’s fine. You know, we’d just agreed to not mention it, but its fine.” He took a drink, swallowed then said, “Maybe I should tell Sammy about you being ticklish?”

“You wouldn’t.” 

He just gave a little upside down smile and drank more of his beer.

“Dean, I’m not even that ticklish.”

“Bullshit. Besides, everyone's ticklish if you get ‘em the right way in the right spot.”

You harrumphed but then thought about what he’d said. “That means you’re ticklish too.” You said with a raised eyebrow.

“Hell yeah I am.” He replied and then chuckled at the look of surprise on your face. “But you aren’t going to tickle me.”

“I’m not?”

“Nope.” He took another drink.

You leaned forward and put your empty bottle on the table before turning towards him on the sofa. “You sound awfully sure of yourself, Winchester.” 

You barely had time to react. One second he was leaned back comfortably with his feet up, beer in hand, and the next the beer was just gone and he was trying to capture both of your hands to pin them down. Although you would deny it later on, the sudden change made you squeak in surprise. A flurry of scrambling ensued. You desperately tried to keep your hands free while he maneuvered the two of you so that he could use his size and weight to full advantage. You quickly realized that it was going to take every ounce of experience you had to get out of this situation with your dignity intact and just as quickly to realize that dignity was highly overrated as his long form pressed you into the sofa. Not that you gave up, no not at all. Struggling against an onslaught of tickling is instinctive after all, and, admittedly, about ninety percent of the fun. Still, it only took him about thirty seconds to secure your arms with one of his hands.

“Let’s see…you seemed kinda sensitive right along here earlier.” His breath ghosted across your neck and ear as his free hand lightly stroked down your side. A shiver ran through you. “Hmm.” You felt him smile. 

When his cockiness seemed at its highest you took a chance that his attention would be at its lowest and twisted out of his hold and onto the floor. Briefly, you thought that you had gotten free and laughed in triumph. But the moment was insanely short lived as he fluidly followed your movements and landed on top of you on the floor. He began tickling you in earnest, this time hitting all the right spots and you couldn’t repress the mad cackling that rose out of you.

You were still pinned, one of his legs pressed down across your hips. God, he had strong legs! You could feel his thigh muscle tighten every time you tried to squirm free. It was rather distracting, or, it would have been if he hadn't been tickling you to the point of hyperventilation. As you twisted, laughing, doing your best to get control of the situation (albeit failing miserably) you could feel his breath, hot and steamy, blowing out across your neck again, his mouth almost touching your skin, his nose in your hair. Another shiver ran through you, settling between your thighs.

A low groan slipped out of you and you were quite suddenly not laughing. His fingers no longer danced across your sides. His hands had slowed but were still rubbing up and down, leaving trails of heat across your skin. Instead of trying to twist away, you turned towards him, your hips rotating into his and you knew without a doubt that you weren't the only one getting turned on by the whole situation. As one of your hands slid around his waist, the other raked through his hair, pulling him closer to your neck. His lips were parted slightly, and breathing through his mouth, he slowly dragged his lips across your neck. You felt the warm wetness of his tongue dart out and taste your skin.

"Mmmm." He groaned, almost as if he couldn't help it, and you responded with a small, needy sound from the back of your throat.

You both paused for the briefest of seconds. He shifted to look at you, his eyes searching yours but constantly distracted by your lips as you licked them. He unconsciously mimicked you and licked his own, sinfully perfect lips, something you had seen him do a thousand times, each time growing increasingly curious as to how they would taste, how they would feel pressed up against your own. And then he leaned forward slightly, or maybe you rose up towards him, maybe both, you weren't sure and didn't really care because his lips brushed against yours, barely there but your eyes fluttered shut and your mouth parted with a small sigh and then he was everywhere and everything was Dean. His lips were hot and soft against yours, as he gently, persistently, devoured you. You sucked at his bottom lip causing him to sigh. God, he tasted like heaven, you thought. 

But then you also thought it strange that heaven could be found lying on a motel room carpet. You pushed him up, intending to get him back up on the sofa at least, but he just rolled so you were straddling him. As you sat up, you continued kissing him while pulling him up with you. Chest to chest, his hand on your lower back pressed you closer together and you ground down against his erection as it strained against the confines of his jeans. His other hand was tangled in your hair as he deepened his kiss. In a surprising moment of clarity you broke away enough to say, "Dean, should we? I mean...Sam could be back any minute."

"No he won't. He'll be gone for at least another couple of hours and he'll text before coming back."

You looked at him in confusion and he grinned at you.

"Trust me." He said, sounding almost like a question.

"Yeah, I just don't understand. How..." He opened his mouth, cheeks blushing, but before he said anything you realized. "You planned this?!"

He chuckled and glanced at how the two of you were sitting. "I don't think I could have planned this." As one hand rubbed up and down your side he used his other thumb to trace the curve under your bottom lip. His eyes met yours again. "Sam seemed to think that there was something going on between us and he insisted on not being here for a bit. He told me to work out whatever it was before all our touchy-feely crap made him puke. I told him that was ridiculous, but..." He shrugged.

"But what?"

"I had to admit that I can't seem to keep my hands off you, so I figured..." He started nosing at your neck.

"What did you figure?" You gasped.

"Well, that you'd either beat the shit outta me or be receptive to the idea, either way, seemed worth the risk."

"I could still beat the shit out of you."

"Oh, I know, Darlin'. But I don't think you're gonna."

"I don't know. You're kinda frustrating."

"Yeah, but I know a much better way to work off that kind of frustration." His voice was barely more than a rumble as he brushed your hair off your neck. 

"Mmm, what did you have in mind?" You managed despite the kisses he was peppering lightly down your throat and across your collar bone until it disappeared under your collar. 

"Well," he hooked a finger in your collar and gave an appreciative peek down the front of your shirt, flashing you a wicked smirk before continuing. "Looking for more ticklish spots." He suggested. 

Rather than wait for your response, he started working on removing your top, going slowly enough to give you time to object. Although you were still reeling from the fact that this was happening at all, you crossed your arms, grabbed the hem of your shirt and pulled it over your head. His eyes lit up as he slowly looked at you. You could practically feel his gaze, your skin heating up wherever he looked, making you very aware of the fact that you were only wearing jeans and a bra. And you mentally kicked yourself when you realized that it wasn't even one of your nicer ones. To cover up your momentary self-consciousness you leaned forward and kissed him, tracing the scruffy line of his jaw with your fingers before carding them through the short hairs at the base of his skull. He wrapped his arms around you, his rough hands gently massaging your back as he pulled you even closer. You were startled slightly when your bra strap suddenly popped loose, you hadn't even realized he'd been working at it. But then his hands were cupping the sides of your face and he was kissing you like there was all the time in the world, lips moving against yours, warm and soft, teeth nipping playfully at your bottom lip, tongue exploring. Your bra straps slipped off your shoulders and down your arms. You pulled back just enough to take it off and toss it across the room without looking or caring where it landed.

Soon his hands were gliding down your back again, one hand coming around your side, lightly caressing the fullness of your breast.

"Not ticklish." You declared as he kissed down your neck, his touch becoming feather-light from under your arm, in a spiraling circle in around your nipple, barely flicking it before letting his fingers glide down your sides, only to repeat the whole thing. You shuddered and drew a shaky breath as his fingers approached your nipple for the second time. You looked at Dean, he was biting his bottom in concentration, making you chuckle. He shot you a little triumphant look. 

"Not ticklish." You repeated and his face fell just a hint. "But it's good…really, really good." You added quickly and shifted in his lap so you could lean towards him and speak quietly into his ear. "I bet I can make you laugh before you can make me laugh."

"Oh yeah?" His voice was rougher and deeper sounding than usual and your thighs squeezed against his hips involuntarily.

"Yep. Wanna take turns? Whoever gets the other to crack first wins." You traced the edge of his ear with your lips and were rewarded by feeling him tense beneath you. He cleared his throat.

"What do I get when I win?"

The cockiness in his response did not slip past you. "You win and the rest of the evening goes however you want. I win, and it goes how I want." You bit his earlobe.

"Sounds like a win-win."

You grinned against his neck. His fingers brushed against your sides causing you to sit back suddenly. "Ah ah! You already had a turn." And you looked him over slowly. "Shirt off." You ordered and coulda swore that you saw his cheeks flush as he grinned.

"Yes, ma'am." He reached back, grabbed his shirt and pulled it over his head and off in one fluid movement. 

You'd seen him without his shirt on before, you'd had your hands on his bare chest and back, but never like this. Before it had always been post hunt patch-ups or that time you'd wired him for sound to capture enough dirt to blackmail one of Crowley's demons into helping you, a plan which had backfired epically and resulted in a post hunt patch-up in an actual emergency room. But you'd never had Dean beneath you, between your legs, bare-chested, relaxed and licking his lips in anticipation of what you were thinking. You reached out and, with the lightest touch you could manage, ran your fingertips down his ribs and across his stomach. Reaching the top of his jeans, you brushed against the trail of soft hairs up to his navel and back around his sides. He drew in a slow, deep breath, drawing your focus back to his face. His lips were slightly parted as he smiled and shook his head. 

"My turn." He said as he sat up straighter and hugged you against him as he pulled you in to a searingly hot kiss. That, coupled with the feel of his skin pressed against yours, had your head spinning so that the tickle against the sole of your bare foot caught you completely off guard. You twitched, but didn't laugh, even as his fingers brushed against the incredibly sensitive skin between the ball of your foot and base of your toes. You moaned into his mouth and ground down into his lap, feeling the wetness of your arousal soaking into your panties. His hard cock strained against the denim as he rubbed back up against you.

A few deep breaths allowed you to regain yourself and you managed to get to your feet and stand without shaking, a feat you were immensely proud of, especially considering your knees had turned completely to jello. "Boots and jeans off." You ordered, taking a shaky step back.

"Damn, Y/N. You've always been kinda bossy," He grinned at you, his cheeks flushed. "Never realized how hot it sounded before." 

You noted with satisfaction that he had his boots off and was standing before you in no time at all. He unbuckled his belt and unbuttoned his jeans, working them down until they fell heavily around his ankles. You sank down to your knees and helped move them out of the way before looking up at him. There you were, topless, kneeling in front of Dean Winchester, his boxer briefs stretched taut and pointed proudly at you. His eyes darkened with lust, his jaw clenched, he seemed imposingly tall, looming above you.

You placed your hands on his feet, leaning towards him slightly, and trailed your fingernails ever so lightly up the backs of his legs. You look up at him as you did your best to illicit a reaction from him, your nails tracing patterns across the sensitive backs of his knees. His breath hitched as he watched you with heavily lidded eyes. You still had your hands on his legs, your face just inches from his straining erection. His scent filled the air around you, smelling like leather and motor oil, hotel soap and sex. Biting your bottom lip you looked down and noticed a small spot of moisture darkening the fabric of his briefs right in front of you. 

He half growled as he cleared his throat then said, "My turn." His voice was gravely and deep, the rumbles traveling straight to your core and your inner muscles clenched involuntarily in response.

He gently but firmly grabbed your upper arms and lifted you to your feet, turning you both as he did.

"Sit and lie down."

He was still so close to you, your hands on his hips to steady yourself, you had to resist the urge to pull him down on top of you as you sat on the sofa. But instead, you turned, put your feet up and stretched out.

Kneeling down next to you, Dean unfastened your jeans and hooked the waistband of your panties with his fingers as he worked both down. You arched your back, lifting your hips to help. Once free, he tossed them aside. Placing his hands on your ankle, he massaged your foot for a second, as if deciding what his next move was going to be. Trailing his fingers lightly up your leg, you didn't realize right away that he was lifting and pulling on the knee closest to him until he had you spread open before him. Moving in towards you he dragged the scruff on his jaw along your inner thigh, not roughly enough to hurt, his face stopping just shy of where you desperately wanted to feel him, his breath blowing hot and humid across you. You were having a hard time holding still and a small whimper escaped your lips when he looked up at you through those ridiculously thick lashes of his.

"What would you have wanted if you'd won?" He asked.

"For you to fuck me." You replied without hesitation. Your hips rolling slightly towards him as your control steadily melted. "And you?"

He looked back down, inhaled and playfully nipped the top of your thigh before soothing over the spot with his tongue.

"Ahhh! You wanna call it a tie?" You gasped, as your fingers tried to get a grip on his short hair.

"Fuck yes." Dean sighed and, turning his head slightly, ran his tongue up along your dripping sex. "Mmm, soaking. You taste...smell...good." You could hear him practically growling the words as he licked wide, wet swaths across you. He bent your other knee and pressed it up, spreading you open even wider as his tongue dipped deeper into you. You hooked your foot over the back of the sofa and thrust your hips towards him.

"Oh god, Dean!" You cried as you felt him shift his attention up to your clit. His hand let go of your knee, making you shudder as his rough palm slid down your thigh. A finger pressed into you and then two. His lips closed around you and he sucked, pumping his fingers in and out, shifting position, searching out just the right spot. When you cried out, he repeated his last move, eliciting a similar response along with a tightening of your grip on his hair and making him groan. He did it again and again before backing off slightly, flicking back and forth with his tongue. Your breathing was coming in ragged gasps as he kissed hard against you, letting his teeth nip and roll your sensitive skin, tugging gently as he fucked into you with three fingers curled to bring you to the brink and crashing over it, waves of pleasure pulsing through you as he slowed but continued to keep you near the edge.

Trying, vainly, to catch your breath, you tugged at his hair and cupped his cheek in your other hand, pulling him up to you as you struggled to sit forward. His mouth and chin were glistening, and you tasted yourself as your lips found his. Falling back into the cushions as he crawled over you, you pulled him down against you.

"Fuck me, please. I need you, need you, please." You were babbling, begging, but you didn't care. Your hands reached between you to realize that he was still wearing his underwear. You fumbled to get your fingers under the waistband, finally stretching it down enough to free him. The silky feel of him was hot and heavy in your hand. He was so hard! Lining him up with your entrance you bucked your hips and whimpered, "Fuck me, Dean, fuck me..."

He thrust forward, pressing into you, but not all the way, before pulling back. You whined into his mouth as he kissed you and pressed forward again, and then again and again. You started to wrap your legs around him but he held your knee up, pressing it into the back of the sofa, the angle pushing him deeper into you and you closer to the edge again. He moved in you relentlessly and you clutched at him, practically sobbing out little moans as the tension built up past the point where you could stand it. You dug your fingernails into his back, pulling him closer. His mouth clamped down on your neck, just below your ear. But it was when you felt him rub little circles around your clit that you finally broke. And the tremors that tore down your control broke him right down with you. For a long moment his weight settled onto you as spasms shook you both, like shockwaves on the surface of a puddle intersecting and overlapping. Finally sighing deeply, you relaxed against him and felt him smile against your neck.

You couldn't help but grin as his hair tickled your cheek. "What?" 

"Win-win for the win!" And he started laughing.

"Oh, sure! Now you laugh?"


End file.
